TT25 Round Five
by MissWinkles
Summary: A series of drabbles or one shots based on picture/words prompts. Rated M because of reasons.
1. Goodbye England

**A/N: Thank you to Marly at EBS**

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><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:5**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): B/E**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

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><p><em>Inspired by 'Goodbye England' by Laura Marling.<em>

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><p>Winter is upon us.<p>

I feel it when you kiss me - the end of your nose, cold, pressed against my cheek.

I smell it when I bury my face in your scarf, inhaling your smell; warm and familiar.

I hear it in the crunch of snow under our boots, and in the chattering of my teeth.

I see it in the puff of breath from my lips, disappearing into the cold morning air as quickly as it appeared.

Shivering, I pull my coat tighter around me. My gloved hands rub together. "Home?"

You smile; pink-tipped ears and cheeks. "Home."


	2. The Summer

**A/N: Thank you to Marly at EBS.**

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><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 16 - Lavish**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

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><p><em>Inspired by 'The Summer' by Josh Pyke<em>

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><p>Blue shutters against cracked white paint; the tiny shack at the end of the street.<p>

Inside are modest rooms with no air conditioning, dusty ceiling fans and bubbly linoleum.

Musty and salty, I open the windows to let a breeze blow in.

Sand has found its way into everything. I can feel it crunch under my feet, scratching over the surface of the floor as I walk.

It's small and a little run down, but it's nothing some love won't fix.

Summer romance and sunshine. Heatwaves and endless possibilities that lie ahead.

And for an entire summer it's all mine.

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><p><em>Thank you for reading<em>


	3. Design Desire

Thank you to LJ Summers at EBS

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><p>The Twilight Twenty-Five<p>

thetwilight25[dot]com

Prompt:19

Pen Name: MissWinkles

Pairing/Main Character(s): B/E

Rating: M

Photo prompts can be viewed here:

thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts

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><p><em>Inspired by 'Design Desire' by Abbe May<em>

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><p>The music makes the ground rumble beneath my feet, makes my chest vibrate. The crowd are impatient, hot and sweaty. They smell of sunblock and beer, mixed with fried food and the occasional skunky weed smell.<p>

The air practically vibrates with anticipation as the last checks are done on the instruments.

My heart kicks up a notch as the band members take their places on stage. And then suddenly he's there, sauntering to the mic like it's the easiest thing in the world.

He's gritty and dirty. Unkempt and utterly obscene.

He is pure desire in dark jeans and leather.

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><p>If you're at all interested, all of the songs are on YouTube.<p> 


	4. Little Bit

**Thank you to LJSummers from EBS. **

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><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:4**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): B/E**

**Rating: K**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

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><p><em>Inspired by 'Little Bit' by Lykke Li<em>

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><p>"Don't forget to pay that water bill."<p>

"M'yeah."

"Bella, I'm serious."

"Ugh. I will. God."

"I'll call you later."

Her face scrunches into a ridiculous pucker as her arms appear from under the sheets, reaching for me.

I lean down for a kiss: short and sweet, our morning ritual.

She smells like sleep and her skin is warm.

"Love you."

When I try to stand her arms are still around my neck. So I kiss her again, undeterred by morning breath, until she releases me, satisfied.

Eyes still closed, she smiles. "Love you too."

She's my little bit of love.


	5. Go Outside

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:24**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): R/E**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

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><p><em>Inspired by 'Go Outside' by The Cults<em>

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><p>Oppressive and suffocating, I can feel the sun through the nylon tent, turning my sleeping bag into an oven.<p>

What sounds like a thousand-million birds are twittering noisily in the trees outside, and I can smell the smoke of a campfire.

I unzip my stifling bag and peel it from around myself. I have sand in my hair, between my toes, under my nails. My skin feels dirty, like a film of dust and sweat has settled over me like cling wrap.

Emmett is cooking breakfast, whistling as he turns blackened eggs on the cooktop.

"Morning!"

"I fucking hate camping."


	6. Clandestine

Thank you to LJ Summers at EBS for her eyes.

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><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 7 - Clandestine**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): E/B**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here: thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

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><p><em>Inspired by 'I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked' by Ida Maria<em>

Just a warning, this is really silly. It came to me at...*ahem* a very inopportune moment.

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><p>"So, Doctor Newton is out sick today?"<p>

Try not to tense.

Deep breaths.

"Yep. You're stuck with me today, Miss Swan."

He smiles at me, his face visible between my bent knees.

Mortified. Utterly and completely.

Why couldn't Doctor Newton see me? Why did it have to be the cute doctor?

"Just try and relax for me."

Making a conscious effort to relax.

Wincing at the discomfort down below.

"We're done. You can hop up."

Thank Christ.

Fully clothed but still dying of embarrassment.

He fiddles with his stethoscope, wearing an awkward smile.

"So, listen, this is completely unprofessional but..."


	7. The Beast

**A/N: Thank you to Annetteinoz**

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><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 15**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

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><p><em>Inspired by 'The Beast' by Laura Marling<em>

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><p>The bed shifts as he climbs in. Curling himself up behind me, his knees find the back of mine, his chest against my back.<p>

Still warm from the shower, the smell of soap masks but doesn't hide the smell of betrayal, of _him_. It clings to him; guilt and sex. He reeks of it.

A heavy arm wraps around my mid-section, hand splaying flat between my breasts. His head, heavy and damp, rests on the pillow. I can feel his breath on the back of my neck.

So soft I can barely hear him. The same every night.

"I'm sorry."

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><p>Because I missed last night, I'll post two drabbles tonight.<p> 


	8. Pitch

**A/N: Thank you to Lisa at EBS  
><strong>

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><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:18 - Pitch  
><strong>

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): E/B**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

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><p><em>Inspired by 'Ain't Telling The Truth by Blue Juice<em>

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><p>"Stop! Stop!"<p>

I turn the backing track off and turn to face Alice.

"What?"

"You're flat."

She snorts, resting her microphone on her hip.

"No, _you're _flat."

"_Pfft_. You're mom's flat, and so are you"

She scowls, her left eye twitching a little.

"My mom is your mom, douche bag. And you couldn't carry a tune with a bucket."

"Bullshit! I'm the talent here, and I'm telling you, you're flat."

Her eyes narrow.

"Edward Cullen," she spits. "I am _not _flat. Listen..."

She sings the last line again.

I sing it back to her.

Alice smirks. "See?"

"Fuck off."


	9. This Boy's in Love

**A/N: Thank you to Lisa at EBS**

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><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt: 11**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): B/E**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

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><p><em>Inspired by 'This Boys in Love' by The Presets<em>

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><p>"The one person I asked you not to go near, Edward."<p>

Jasper's knee bobs rapidly, jingling the change in his pockets.

"Dude, It's not like that..."

"She's my sister, man. She's off limits!"

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I'm trying not to be angry with him, I really am. But it hurts that he thinks I'm not good enough for her and what's more, that I'd do anything to hurt her.

"It's different, okay?"

"Oh yeah? How?"

"Because..."

Realization seeps into my bones, deep and warm, like liquid courage.

"Because I love her, Jasper."


	10. My Delirium

**A/N: Thank you to LJ Summers at EBS**

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><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:8**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): A/J**

**Rating: K**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

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><p><em>Inspired by 'My Delirium' by Ladyhawke<em>

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><p>He's talking to me.<p>

I can see his mouth moving, hear a noise coming out of it, see his hands gesticulate wildly as he speaks, but I don't know what he's saying.

His eyes sparkle blue like the Aegean Sea. I'm watching his lips as he speaks, wondering what they'd feel like against mine.

Or pressed to the skin under my right ear.

The nape of my neck.

My shoulder blade.

The inside of my elbow.

He waves a hand in front of my face, capturing my attention.

"Alice!"

My eyes meet his and I smile.

"Were you even listening?"

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><p><strong>As you can see, my drabbles are not works of genius, they're not literary prose - they're just random snippets. Sorry.<strong>


	11. Stars

**A/N: Thanks to HollettLA at EBS.**

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><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:21**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): E/B**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

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><p><em>Inspired by 'Stars' by The XX<em>

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><p>The rain beats a steady, lulling rhythm on the roof of the car. The wind, cold and unrelenting, slams against the vehicle, making it sway gently.<p>

Inside the windows are wet, damp from warm breath.

Legs climb and maneuver as arms entwine and fingers grasp at hot skin.

The storm picks up; lightning arcs across the sky and thunder rumbles as Edward's fingers pick up their pace.

Quiet mewls turn to moans stifled by open-mouthed kisses. Bella is close; he can feel it.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. _

Metal against glass. The butt of the police-issue flashlight.

"Shit! Edward. It's my Dad."


	12. Champion Sound

**A/N: Thanks to ajr818 at EBS**

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><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:1**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): B/R**

**Rating: K**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

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><p><em>Inspired by 'Champion Sound' by Crystal Fighters<em>

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><p>The worn leather is hot under Bella's bare legs. An open car window sends ribbons of dark hair flying around her head. The radio is loud, though not loud enough to drown out the whining of the old engine.<p>

With artfully faded hair and bright blue eyes, her best girl Rose sits beside her. The bohemian princess.

Summer has arrived, and the boys of summer bring with them excitement and romance.

Bella's lips turn up at the sight of the bronzed bodies and surfboards that line the streets. Low-slung shorts and bare feet, they make her heart flutter with excitement.


	13. Butterflies

**A/N: Thank you to EBS**

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><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:3**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): E/B**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

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><p><em>Inspired by 'Butterflies' by Sia<em>

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><p>He lifts me like it's nothing, my ass sitting precariously on the edge of the washing machine as his lips move across my shoulder, his fingers following suit.<p>

"What's brought this on?"

Edward pays me no mind, continuing his movements.

"Caveman instinct?"

My ankles lock around his waist.

"Something about watching you do the laundry."

"Oh, I'm not complaining."

I feel him smile against my décolletage.

My answering chuckle turns into a gasp as his tongue finds the valley between my breasts.

I don't know how he does it, but somehow, using his ninja stealth, he turns the machine on.


	14. It's Alright

**A/N: Thanks to LJ Summers at EBS**

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><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:12**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): E/B**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

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><p><em>Inspired 'It's Alright' by Little Red<em>

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><p>"Christ, Bella. Can you be careful, please?"<p>

She snorts as her feet find their way up the tree. "Shut up, Edward, you big pussy."

"Oh, you're in trouble now."

She laughs as I chase her up.

"Nuh-uh, you can't come up!" she says, shaking the ladder.

"Why not?"

"Because, it's girls only. I'll get cooties!"

I chuckle, trying to get a foothold. "What are you, six?"

I climb into the tree house and she giggles as I pin her beneath me, dust swooping and whirling around us.

"Our first kiss was right here. Remember?"

I kiss her again. "Of course"


	15. The Waitress

**A/N: Thank you to Krystle, my wonderful BiTO Beta. Any mistakes are mine because I'm fiddly like that.  
><strong>

**I decided just to cut the shit and post this. Otherwise I'll spend hours reading and re-reading it until my eyes bleed. In the end, I figured only one, maybe two, people will read this. *Hi Alby!***

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><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:23**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): B/E**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

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><p><em>Inspired by - 'The Waitress Song' by Seth Sentry<em>

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><p>Men are creatures of habit. None more so than myself.<p>

At exactly five past six every morning, the paper boy will toss the morning paper into my front yard, miss the stoop, and it'll slam against my front door. It's more effective than any alarm.

Upon waking, I'll brush my teeth for exactly four minutes, spending two minutes on both the upper and lower teeth, and gargle twice.

I like the bagels from the bakery near my apartment; the ones with red onion and cream cheese.

And I like the way the lady at the deli on Fifth Street wraps my sandwiches.

Habit is also why every afternoon, between three and three-thirty, I go to the little café next to my office.

It's a tiny place; easy to miss nestled between a big chain bookstore and the office building I work in.

The grey paint on the walls outside is peeling, revealing the red brick that lies underneath, like fresh skin under a sunburn. There are no signs on the front entrance, none in the windows. The only way you can tell it's there is by the black wrought iron furniture scattered on the sidewalk.

Come to think of it, I don't even know if it has a name, it's just the café next door.

Inside, artwork splashes across every wall; modern, art deco, abstract, clashing styles fitting together seamlessly.

The tables and chairs don't match. Not one. But no matter which one you sit on, you can bet it wobbles. The tabletops are scratched; years of coffee cup stains etched into their surfaces.

The staff is an eclectic mix. Between the barista with the jet black hair and numerous facial piercings, and the dreadlocked red head behind the cash register, every spectrum of the social standing is covered.

All of the food is vegan, organic, free-trade and homemade. They sell things like Chilli Non Carne, Soy Bolognese and something called the Fakin' BLT. I was only stupid enough to order the wholemeal, no-egg pancakes once, and it was a mistake I won't make again.

The service is bad.

I'm talking exceptionally bad.

Most of the time the wait staff are too busy chatting with each other to serve, and I sometimes catch the cook reading the paper at the counter – like he has nothing better to do with his time.

The coffee is rubbish too. Bitter and always tasting a little burnt; I've taken to adding a whole lot of sugar and extra milk to dull the flavor. But the pie is good. Actually it's amazing. In all honesty I think it's the only thing people come here for. Well, except for the dude with the long blonde hair who wears socks and sandals – he seems like the type of guy who would eat a Tofurkey and lentil curry.

Whatever flavor the pie is; blueberry, rhubarb, apricot - it's delicious. The pastry looks and tastes like real homemade pastry; golden and flaky with a perfectly crunchy crust and a soft base. I don't know what they do to replace the butter in the recipe, but whatever it is, it works, because you can almost taste the salty goodness of real, honest to goodness, full-fat, full-dairy butter.

So; crappy café, bad service and terrible food, you're probably wondering why I even bother? There's a Starbucks half a block away that has better coffee, great service and free Wi-Fi.

But Starbucks doesn't have her.

_Her._

She looks like a dangerous version of a fifties movie star; all dark hair and bouncy curls, bright red lips against pale skin. She rocks those black jeans, the ones that make her hips look soft. The ones that look like she's been poured into them, just a handful spilling over the top, asking to be touched.

I swear, the way she smiles at me when I come in makes my whole day brighter. And yes, I know she's supposed to smile at me, I'm a customer, but I can't help but think she reserves a special one just for me - the one that makes her eyes crinkle at the sides.

Have I spoken to her? No. I don't even know her name. The tag on her shirt just says 'B'.

It's the way she's always humming as she moves around the cafe. Or the way she scowls at the coffee cups when they're marked, before wiping them with her shirt and using them anyway.

"Hi Edward!" she'll call across the café as I push through the front door; the bells on the door signaling my entrance.

Every afternoon is the same; happy greetings and silent conversations. She knows my regular order and brings it without even having to ask; a slice of pie – without the dairy free ice cream on the side, and a strong black coffee.

We have a sense of ease between us. She always asks how work is, even though I'm pretty sure she doesn't know what it is I actually do. I always comment on the pie, which makes her smile. I've found I'll do pretty much anything to make her smile.

On my busy days when I have to bring work in with me, she leaves the pie and coffee and lets me be. No witty repartee, no funny banter, she just goes about her day.

She just knows.

And she always gives me the new music magazine on a Friday, which I continually kid myself into thinking she saves especially for me.

There are a myriad of reasons as to why I haven't made a move, but the basic crux of it is, I'm chicken shit and I really like the pie.

The bell rings over the door as I make my way in on a particularly sunny Friday morning. The redhead waitress raises her head to look at me, and then continues reading the magazine on the counter.

I've barely made it to my table when _she _appears.

"Hey, Edward," she chirps. _Fuck_. She's got on that green top that I like. The one with all the polka dots that makes her chest look…just…_fuck_.

I sit in my regular seat, trying to look like I'm not looking. It's harder than it sounds.

"Hey," I manage as she slips _Beat_ onto the table top for me.

"There's a great article in there about Stereogum." she says, tapping the magazine with her free hand.

"Oh, yeah?" _Great answer. Very smooth. Very articulate._

She nods. "Yeah. They're uh…they're playing at Hype Machine tonight actually."

"Oh, cool."

She stands a moment before shaking her head and smiling. "I'll get your pie."

As soon as she leaves my table, I flip through the magazine, searching for the article. But before I can finish, she's back, pie and coffee in hand.

"Oh, you found it." Her head points towards the magazine.

I nod. "Uh, yeah. They look…" I look down at the motley crew that passes for a band; retro hairstyles and bizarre outfits. "…cool."

She smiles and it's dazzling; all teeth and red lips. "Yeah, they are. They're one of my favorites."

I make a mental note to buy every single album from their back catalog.

She digs her hands deep into the pocket of her apron. "Okay, we'll...I'll just leave you to eat in peace."

I want to tell her no, ask her to sit and talk to me more, but I don't. I just stare at her until she starts to walk away.

"It's Bella by the way." I look up and find her back beside me, her hands still buried in her apron.

"What's Bella?"

She bites her lip, barely suppressing a laugh. "My name."

My mouth goes dry and my tongue feels like it's stuck to the roof of my mouth. My words almost choke me as I force them out of my mouth. "Bella."

_Of course it's Bella._

She tucks an errant piece of hair behind her ear. "Okay, well, enjoy the coffee."

And then she's gone before I can reply. Not that I would have replied with anything remotely witty or thoughtful.

I barely taste the horrendous coffee as her name tumbles around my head.

_Bella..…B_-_ella..…Be-lla._

The only other thought that registers is one of delight as the pie touches my lips. Smooth and rich, it's chocolate but with the subtle hint of peanut butter. The filling is rich and smooth, an awesome contrast to the flaky, crumbly crust.

I'm so lost in the dessert that I almost don't hear someone come up beside me.

"How is it?" asks the redhead waitress, gesturing to the half a slice of pie I've practically inhaled.

I can't suppress my grin, not remotely worried that there's probably chocolate filling all over my teeth. "It's so good. Send my compliments to whoever made it."

She quirks an eyebrows at me, confused. "Why don't you tell her yourself?" she snorts. "She's right over there."

Turning to look for whoever it is that creates these mouth-watering desserts, I almost fall off my wobbly seat when I find she's pointing at Bella.

If I didn't think it was love before - I certainly know it now. If I was a cartoon character there would be love hearts floating around my head, or popping out of my eyes. I didn't even think it was possible for her to be any more perfect, but I was wrong. It's _her _hands, _her _delicate fingers that create these little slices of wondrous heaven every day. And now more than ever I realize that she really is the only reason I keep coming back.

The waitress, obviously thinking I'm mentally deficient as I sit there with my mouth gaping open, leaves me to refill coffee cups.

In that split second I have my epiphany. It's this day, _this _day, that's going to be the day that I make my move. And the pie - that amazing, beautiful, fucking stupendous pie - is going to be the key.

I've got it all worked out in my head; what I'm going to say, how I'm going to say it and how effortlessly cool I'm going to be whilst doing it. But it all slips right out of my head the minute Bella steps up beside my table again.

"Tori said you like the pie today?"

"I can't believe...it's so...I...you _made _this?" I can barely form coherent words, let alone full sentences, but luckily she seems to be able to pick up what I'm putting down.

Her answering smile makes my heartbeat falter, like it trips suddenly, stumbling to catch up.

"I made it from scratch this morning."

"It's amazing," I say, but what I really mean is _you're _amazing. "Peanut butter is pretty much my favorite food ever."

Smiling, she puts a hand to her throat, playing with the delicate chain that rests there. "Mine too."

We're both quiet for a beat; her fiddling with her necklace, me practically licking the crumbs from the plate.

"Did you have any other favorites?" she asks quietly. "Just so I know for future reference."

I push the plate away. "The cherry choc-chip one was good." She nods, smiling. "And the banana cream one too. I still don't know how you get the cream to taste so real. Or the pastry."

She looks around covertly before slipping into chair opposite me. My whole body is buzzing with her proximity, but I try to remain cool, leaning in when she does.

"If I tell you my secret, you have to promise not to tell."

Hell, I wouldn't care if the secret ingredient was pig fat. As long as she sits this close to me, letting that vanilla scent she has on her drift my way, I'll happily eat it.

"I promise," I say, zipping my lips closed with my fingers and pretending to throw away the key.

She licks her bottom lip before leaning in that little bit further, her elbows on the table. "Pig fat," she whispers, hiding a smirk behind her fingers.

Well, shit.

"Pig fat?"

"Well, lard. Which is mostly pig fat. It was my grandmothers recipe."

"But I thought...isn't everything on the menu vegan?"

Her fingers squeeze her bottom lip nervously as she nods, turning it rosy pink as the blood pools beneath the skin. "Everything except the pie."

Sneaky thing she is, she's been using real cream in the fillings, and lard in the pastry for years. Apparently Emmett, the cook, is also not a vegan, and between the two of them the secret of the not-so-vegan vegan pie is well kept.

"So you're not a vegan?"

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. "God, no. In fact, apart from pies, I also make really good hamburgers."

"No shit," I say with a chuckle. Sneaky cute Bella sure is sneaky. "Well, if it's any consolation, your pie is the only reason I come in here."

She gives me a knowing smile. "Yeah, I figured that. You don't seem like a tofu kind of guy."

I want to know what kind of guy she thinks I am.

Actually, I'm just happy she's thinking about me at all.

"So, Edward. How long have you worked next door?"

She does know where I work! "Um, about twelve months."

"Twelve months?" she says, acting surprised. "Has it been that long? Wow."

That long? How long is _that _long?

She smiles a coy little smile as she toys with the end of her ponytail. "Seems like just yesterday you were walking in that front door, all soggy from the rain."

"You remember the first day I came in?"

Funnily enough I can't even remember the first day I came in. But then again I can't remember what I had for dinner the night before, so that's not unusual. I do however, remember what Bella was wearing the first day I saw her. She looked like every picture of a pin-up girl I'd ever seen; all curves and color. I couldn't believe she was real, let alone bringing me a slice of pie.

"Sure I do," Bella replies, picking at the cracked table top. "Three o'clock is kind of my favorite part of the day."

My mouth goes dry instantly and every single thought just tumbles out of my brain.

"Mine too."

Her eyes reach mine again, and she's so cool and effortlessly sexy.

"So...you come in just for the pie, huh?" she asks, smirking.

It's at this point that I figure _why the hell not? _I might as well just tell her how I feel. I get the feeling from the look in her eyes that she's got me figured out anyway. And she told me about the pie thing so the very least I can do is tell her that I think she's my ideal girl, the one I'm supposed to spend the rest of my days with. Or at least the foreseeable future.

"Well, actually, no."

She tilts her head to one side and her smile widens a little. "No?"

I shake my head. "The pie is good. Very good in fact. Really, you should win awards or something. Do they have vegan pie awards?"

I'm rambling.

"Anyway - pie aside, I don't actually like coffee."

This makes her laugh loudly. "What? You have a coffee every day!"

"Um, yeah. I hate it. And not just your coffee, which by the way is terrible - all coffee."

"Okay, so it's not the pie and it's not the coffee, which, yes, is awful. So what is it? What brings you here every day?"

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "You."

Her smile is utterly breathtaking. Wide and toothy, red lips stretch and the corners of her eyes crease. She takes a deep breath much like I did.

"I've been waiting twelve months - a whole year - for you to say something."

"What? Why? I mean, why didn't you say anything?"

She rolls her eyes a little as she smiles. "Oh come on, Edward."

I open my mouth to respond, but my confused face gives me away

Her head tilts to the side incredulously. "Really? I saved you the new copies of Beat. I brought you pie every day. I risked life and limb arguing with Vicky over there so that I could be the one to serve you every day!"

It all clicks. All the little things that I had deemed to be friendly service were actually her way of flirting.

"I didn't know," I reply, and I'm smiling so hard it actually begins to hurt.

Someone clears their throat loudly, and Bella looks over her shoulder at the front counter.

"Ugh. I'd better get back to pretending to work. Do you want a refill?" she asks, pointing to my empty coffee cup.

"Uh..." I eye the coffee, wondering if I can stomach another one, wondering if she's blowing me off, wondering what the fuck I should do!

She laughs before I can think of an appropriate answer. "Never mind. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

_No! No, no, no, no!_

I can't just let her walk away.

"Wait!"

She turns slowly, her eyes zeroing in on my fingers wrapped gently around her wrist.

_Just do it. Do it!_

"Would you want to, maybe, go...out...with me?"

Her dark eyes meet mine and they narrow as she smirks at me. "Like a date?"

I let her wrist go as I nod. "Yeah, a date."

Another not-so-subtle noise emanates from behind the front counter, and Bella turns to shush whoever it is loudly before turning back to me expectantly.

My mind races as I try to think of somewhere to take her. The shine of the magazine on the table catches my attention from the corner of my eye and it hits me.

"I could get us tickets to see Stereogum?"

She takes a tentative step towards me and we are officially the closest we've ever been. If I were to lift my head just a little, my lips would be able to meet hers, instead I'm eye-level with them, watching her teeth gnaw at the soft skin of her lower lip.

"Really?"

I nod, unable to tear my eyes away from the pout of her bottom lip, the way it curls over slightly, the curve of her Cupid's bow when she smiles.

Without a moment of hesitation she leans forward, placing one gentle kiss on my cheek. "I'd love to."

"Bella, table four!" yells Tori from the register.

With a final smile, Bella wipes the lipstick from my cheek and leaves my table. "On it, Tori. Keep your pants on!"

She kissed me. On the cheek, yes. But still, she voluntarily kissed me _after_ she agreed to go on a date with me. This could quite possibly be the best day of my entire life. It's like the world had stopped turning and I feel like I'm floating away. My fingers actually grip the tabletop in an attempt to ground me as I watch her for a moment, flitting between tables, refilling coffee, her smile probably the same as mine - ear to ear.

Of course, the world has not actually stopped turning, in fact, when I glance down at my watch, I realize I'm over forty minutes late back to work. Still, I can't find it in me to rush to leave. Standing at the front door, I glance one more time at her, excited beyond belief to find her looking right back.

The couple at the table in front of her look between the two of us as the coffee pot in Bella's hand hovers above their cups.

That smile is what I keep with me as I trudge back to my desk. Twice I almost turn around and walk right back to the cafe. God knows I'd rather spend my day watching Bella than doing my own boring job. Luckily for me no one had even noticed I was gone, so I spend my entire afternoon You-Tubing Stereogum music, and buying tickets to their show.

The band is awful. It's not music, it's the sound of guitars and drums being viciously murdered. You can't even understand what the singer is screaming about, but I bet it's not about love or puppies.

But I don't care.

I go to the dirty underground bar that night to watch them play. I go because it's worth it to see Bella look at me the way she does. Even amongst the sweaty, long-haired freaks, she manages to be the only thing in the room to catch my attention. And it's there, in the middle of the room full of thrashing metal fans, that she kisses me.

But like I said, I'm a man of habit.

I still brush my teeth for four minutes.

The lady at the Deli on Fifth still wraps my sandwiches.

And I still go to the cafe next door for a slice of pie.

Only now, the smile I once wished could be mine - is.


	16. Everything In Its Place

**A/N: Thank you Rags at EBS**

**This is dedicated to EnvisiontheFieryCrash. Thank you for lurking. :)**

* * *

><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:14**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): E/B**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

* * *

><p><em>Inspired by 'Everything in Its Right Place' by Radiohead<em>

* * *

><p>"Why haven't I met her yet?"<p>

Bella points to a picture of Alice and me last Christmas, swathed in our hideous matching knitted sweaters from Aunt Sue.

"Soon."

She flicks to the next photo, studying the picture of us at Easter.

"She's very pretty."

I shrug. "Yeah. I guess."

Another flick. Another photo. This time it's The Black Keys at the Gibson Amphitheater.

"I'll introduce you soon."

"When? I want to meet her."

I laugh at her insistence. "Soon!"

"Do you think she won't like me?"

I kiss her head. "Bella, she'll love you. She's my sister; she has to."


	17. Crazy For You

**A/N: Thank you HollettLA at EBS**

* * *

><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:6 - Ambivalence**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): A/B**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

* * *

><p><em>Inspired by 'Crazy For Your' by Best Coast<em>

* * *

><p>"The pink or the white, Bella?"<p>

David Austin. Peonies. Tea Roses. They all look the same to me.

Alice taps her foot impatiently. "Bella! Which ones?"

"Either. I don't mind."

She rolls her eyes, returning her attention to the florist.

I would get married in my jeans and flip-flops with sour grass for a bouquet. I would eat McDonald's and drink Vitamin R. I don't need a piece of paper to tell me that Edward and I will be together forever.

But for Alice, and for Edward, the man I love, I will make the effort.


	18. Lick

**A/N: _Thank you to HollettLA from EBS. No song for this one. Sorry.  
><em>**

* * *

><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:17**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): E/B**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

* * *

><p>Black and tan wriggle and writhe, circling, sniffing, tails wagging.<p>

"Jake!"

Cute guy shakes his head at the dog, clipping the lead to its collar. "Sorry."

He looks like his dog. Rusty, copper coloured hair, long legs and sparkly eyes.

"No! Jake!"

"Rosie!"

"They like each other."

"Like? Your dog just tried to hump mine."

He shrugs. "He's got good taste."

He's talking about the dogs but looking at me. It makes me uncomfortable in a good way.

"Maybe they should get to know each other first?"

Definitely not talking about the dogs.

"Like a date?"

"Yeah, like a date."


	19. Dancing On My Own

**A/N: Thanks to ajr818 at EBS for her Beta services.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:2**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): Any**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

* * *

><p><em>Inspired by 'Dancing On My Own' by Robyn<em>

* * *

><p>Broken glass crunches under foot; the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer mingles in the air.<p>

I see him, but he doesn't see me. He never sees me.

Why won't he notice me?

Every weekend I'm here. Standing in the corner watching him kiss someone new. The stab of jealousy stings every time, but still, my heart thunders and my palms sweat at just the sight of him.

I dance like I'm not watching his every move, like I don't want his eyes to catch mine across the dance floor.

But not tonight. Tonight, I will make him see.


	20. Baby, It's Forever

**A/N: Thank you to LJ Summers at EBS. **

* * *

><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:13**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): E/B**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

* * *

><p><em>Inspired by 'Forever and Ever, Amen.' by The Drums<em>

* * *

><p>"Small circles. You want nice, small, round bumps."<p>

I want her small round bumps. I want them in my hands and mouth.

But I'm frothing to get a wave.

The only thing keeping me on the beach is the way Bella bends over her board, her bikini top shifting lower as she moves.

She's a total Emma in her green bikini, her wetsuit rolled to waist, smelling of Sex Wax and zinc cream.

But finally, after a few quick swipes with the wax _- hel-lo nip_!

I ogle for three, two, one...and that's enough.

Juicy waves beat nips every time.

* * *

><p><em>So far I've restrained myself from pimping the musical inspiration for each chapter, but I can't help myself here. Find it on YouTube. Go on, give it a whirl! You can't not love The Drums. Hipster music at its best :) (His dancing!)<em>


	21. Black Star

**A/N: Thank you to LJ Summers from EBS**

* * *

><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:20 - Vanish**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): Any**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

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* * *

><p><em>Inspired by 'Black Star' by Radiohead<em>

* * *

><p>Jake finds her standing in the kitchen still wearing her dressing gown.<p>

He knows she watches the forest around their home, leaves every window open, speaks as though they will hear. She waits.

He tries to understand, tries to make it better – it doesn't work.

She's thinking of him. The only one she ever _really _loved - the vampire. But he left her, disappeared long ago, leaving nothing but memories that eat her up from the inside.

So Jake does what he can. Orbiting her like a satellite. Her own personal homing beacon, willing her to return to him.

* * *

><p><em>This is as close to Canon as I'm ever going to get.<em>


	22. Doubt

**A/N: Thank you to LJ Summers at EBS**

* * *

><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:9 - Friction**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): Any**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

* * *

><p><em>Inspired by 'Doubt' by Delphic<em>

* * *

><p>"What are you doing here?"<p>

He shrugs as he sips his beer, eyes looking everywhere but at me.

"Night out with the boys."

I snort. "You mean you guys stopped playing Call Of Duty long enough to go somewhere? How nice."

Smug bastard screws up his face, laughing once.

"Whatever. Maybe I thought I'd try my luck, since I'm single and all."

He looks right at me as he says those last words, and I hear their inflection. I hear the _"I'm single because you fucking dumped me, you heinous bitch"_tone, and it hurts.

"Go fuck yourself."

* * *

><p><em>This was originally a one shot but I ran out of time, as usual. I might post it once TT25 is over. I <span>was<span> planning for other types of friction as well. _


	23. That Cake

**A/N: Thank you to LJ Summers at EBS.**

* * *

><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:25**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): E/B**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

* * *

><p><em>Dedicated to and Inspired by AlbyMangroves.<em>

* * *

><p>That fucking cake. I despise it with every fiber of my being.<p>

Three days. Forty painstaking, back-breaking hours spent baking, icing, decorating - and the bride doesn't like it.

_I'll give her "too flowery"_.

Revenge is sweet as perfectly moist chocolate cake splatters on the tiled floor. Ganache drips from the ceiling. Icing in green, pink and white, colors my apron, my hair, my arms.

I smash it to pieces. Mash it. Destroy it. Pummel it until it's nothing but a pile of crumbs.

It feels good, too. Cathartic.

Wide-eyed, Alice stops dead in the doorway.

"She changed her mind."


	24. Awkward

**A/N: Thank you to LJ Summers at Emergency Beta Service, and all of the other lovely, brilliant women who helped me along the way :)**

* * *

><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:22**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Jake**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

* * *

><p><em>Inspired by 'Awkward' by San Cisco<em>

* * *

><p>I wouldn't have gone to dinner if I'd known he was going to agree with everything I said.<p>

Every time he smiled and nodded, I wanted to reach over the table and punch him in the throat. Wipe that idiotic grin off his face.

_"He's very sweet,"_ they said.

_"He really likes you,"_ they said.

They're all idiots.

Jake was persistent, I'll give him that much. Every day there was a new message from him. Flowers on my doorstep. Surprise visits at work.

In the end I had to introduce him to Charlie.

Needless to say, he doesn't bother me anymore.


	25. The Only One

**A/N: Thank you to AlbyMangroves for her quick beta work. Thank you also to you for reading and reviewing.  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>The Twilight Twenty-Five<strong>

**thetwilight25[dot]com**

**Prompt:22**

**Pen Name: MissWinkles**

**Pairing/Main Character(s): Bella/Edward**

**Rating: M**

**Photo prompts can be viewed here:**

**thetwilight25[dot]com/round-5/prompts**

* * *

><p><em>Inspired by - 'The Only One' by The Black Keys.<em>

_Merry Christmas to all xxx  
><em>

* * *

><p>There's a new girl in our office. A very pretty new girl.<p>

Bella. Her name is Bella. I found out it means 'beautiful' in Italian, which is both fitting and not enough to describe her.

Don't get me wrong, my office is full of pretty girls.

Rosalie at cubicle 4B - she's cute.

And Angela who sits at the desk on the wall adjacent to mine - she's cute too.

But the new girl isn't cute, she's jaw-dropping.

Jasper calls me weird because I have a thing for her. I call him weird for still having an undercut in the year two-thousand and eleven.

I guess she's not what you would call conventionally beautiful. She's short, but not super short like Alice. Her head would fit nicely against my chest, or in the dip of my shoulder. She's good nooking material, that's for sure. And she's curvy, but in all the right places. Hips you can hang on to, an ass you could take a whole handful of. Skin like alabaster stone, clear and luminescent. No sign of artificial tanners or sunbeds. And her hair? Good God, her hair. In the mornings when the sun hits our side of the building, it lights up like a halo, blazing crimson in the sunlight. I think it's a really dark shade of red, but I'm not sure because I've never been close enough to find out.

Yeah. I'm that guy. The one that stands behind the photocopier, xeroxing anything and everything he can get his hands on just so he can spend five minutes watching her chew on the end of her pen.

Yesterday, while I was standing at the copy machine right near her desk, she took her little sweater thing off - the blue one with the little pearl buttons, the one that makes her skin look like porcelain - and there it was: color on her otherwise perfect pale skin.

Two small arcs of black ink spread themselves over the tips of her shoulders. Of course, I wasn't close enough, and her shirt covered too much for me to get a good idea of what it was. Then, I was so busy squinting, trying to decipher what it was I could see, that when she looked at me over her shoulder, a pen still dangling from her mouth, I almost fell over in my attempt to hide, stubbing my toe on the side of the copy machine.

"You should just talk to her," says Alice, like it's just that easy.

It's not.

She frowns, talking around a mouthful of her tuna sandwich. "Why not? She's really nice."

But that's the problem. She _is _nice. I've seen her talking to Alice or to Ben, the guy who makes the sandwiches - she's always smiling. And when she talks to people they end up smiling too, like it's infectious. If she was rude or bitchy I could just ignore her - ogle her from a distance and nothing more. But the simple fact is she's neither, and it makes her all the more scary. Utterly and completely unattainable.

A girl like her with a sunshine smile and quiet grace must have someone, right? Someone that makes her laugh, someone that knows exactly what's underneath her clothes, what's inked on her back.

So, no, Alice. It's not that easy.

The weather warms early this year. By three o'clock the office is sweltering in late afternoon sun. The air conditioner is pitiful, and dress code requires us to be in slacks and shirt all year round. As a guy, short of rolling up my sleeves, there's nothing I can do to stay cool. Of course, for women, it's a whole different ball game.

Gone are the modest shirts and pants, and the morning becomes Jasper's favourite time of day as he watches the parade of bare shoulders and knee-skimming hems.

"Alice is wearing that dress with the flowers again," he gushes, hand held over a thrumming heartbeat. His crush rivals my own, and it's truly scary to see just how sad it looks from the outside. The main difference is, Jasper actually talks to Alice. She knows he exists, she just doesn't know he daydreams about taking her into the supply room. Apparently its where all the action happens. Funnily enough, the only action I've gotten in the supply room was when Maria, the stout Italian woman from finance, accidentally brushed my butt as she reached for the A4 paper.

Sighing, I try to get back to my work, conscientiously focusing on the screen in front of me.

It's useless. Completely futile. My brain and I both know that neither of us will get any work done until she walks in.

And like clockwork, she does.

I have to lean out of my cubicle a little to see her. I've found I can lean back in my chair and see around the partition to get a good glimpse of her. Because yes, this is what my life has come down to, calculating the correct angle of my neck for optimal stalker visibility.

_Shit_.

It's the little white one with the bows on her shoulders.

That dress. Jesus, fuck, _that dress_.

Do women know they do this? Do they know the little things they do that send guys like me over the edge?

They must.

Is there a handbook -_ '101 Ways To Drive A Man Insane'_?

I'm contemplating writing a companion book - _'50 Ways to Hide An Erection At Work'_- when she looks at me.

She looks right at me and then fucking smiles.

She smiles _at me. _The rush of blood to my head is so great it feels like I'm falling. That is, until I realize I _am _falling. The weight to balance ratio on my desk chair fails, and for a moment I hover mid-air, flailing my arms. Luckily, my foot catches the desk and stops me before I end up on my back on the floor.

I can feel the heat of my embarrassment through my shirt as I roll forward, hiding behind my partition.

My forehead slams into my desk. "Idiot!"

I spend the rest of the morning with my head against my desk, wallowing in my worthlessness. Only when Jasper leans over the top of my partition do I lift my head, a yellow post-it note stuck above my left eyebrow.

"Coffee?"

The post-it flutters to the ground as I nod, dragging myself out of my office chair.

It's like dinner time at a jailhouse as everyone files towards the coffee cart. I count the money in my back pocket; just enough for a coffee and maybe one of those blueberry muffins I like.

Jasper is waffling on about Alice again. Something about a piercing somewhere. He knows it's there, he just doesn't know where. He's trying to guess.

_Shuffle, shuffle, stop._

White cotton and dark hair stand barely two feet away as Jasper talks about nipple rings and the benefits of girls with tongue rings.

_Shuffle, shuffle, stop._

With her hair over one shoulder, more of her back is exposed, more of the ink. All it would take would be for me to slip the strap of her dress off her shoulder - then I'd be able to see what it is.

_Shuffle, shuffle, stop._

She tucks her hair behind her ear again. Her fingers are slim and graceful, even with the chipped black polish and over sized skull ring.

Jasper isn't even pretending to talk to me anymore. He just watches me looking at her.

"Pussy," he mouths.

I can't even reply with anything witty, so I just ignore him.

_Shuffle and stop. _

She orders a tall black coffee with three sugars.

The artwork on her back seems to be converging towards her spine, arching over the top of her shoulder blades like - like wings.

What is it? A butterfly? Fairy? Bird? No. She's not the type of girl who would have butterflies or fairies.

A commotion jolts me out of my staring, and I find Jasper nudging me gently with his shoulder.

"...must have left my purse upstairs."

She's wringing her hands nervously as the barista stares at her, shrugging lazily.

Jasper's head urges me forward. But what for?

"Pay for her coffee," he hisses as he pushes me forward again, right into her line of sight.

"I...," I have to clear my throat and brush the hair from my eyes as she looks at me. "I can get that. Your coffee I mean."

Her eyes are a mesmerizing shade of golden brown, a stark contrast the the long dark lashes that line her eyes; thick and rimmed with black.

"Oh, um, no, It's fine." She waves a hand, shaking her head as she tucks her hair again, even though it's already behind her ear.

A not-so-gentle prod in the back forces my bravery to a head. "No, it's fine. I don't mind."

She's squeezing the skin between her thumb and forefinger, chewing the skin inside her mouth. "Really?"

I nod, attempting a nervous smile.

The woman behind the coffee cart is getting impatient, so I hand over my money and order my own short black. We stand in silence as the coffee machine gurgles and hisses, steam billowing around it. Twice I open my mouth to say something, but close it again. When I do begin to say something, she cuts me off.

"It..."

"Are..."

We both smile nervously, and I take the two coffees from the barista, handing her the tallest.

"Thank you," she says quietly, holding the huge cup between her hands. I watch her blow carefully through the top of her coffee lid and I'm rooted to the spot as she tips the cup back, tentatively taking a little sip. Her eyes close as she does and I can practically see the tension melt from her shoulders.

"It's Edward, right? You work in data processing with Jasper?"

_She knows my name! _

_She knows my name?_

She smiles up at me, her head tilted to the side a little.

I nod. "Yeah. How did you know?"

She blushes a little, pink coloring her cheekbones, just beneath her eyes. "Alice."

That sneaky little...

"Walk me back to my desk, Edward?"

I swallow a gulp of coffee, burning my throat. "Sure."

We talk office gossip as I escort her back to her desk. Apparently Jessica in management has been having an affair with Ben, the sandwich guy. It's trivial and probably rude to talk about my co-workers behind their backs, but I don't care. I get to spend an entire seven minutes talking to Bella. She's so perfectly wonderful. She makes cute gestures with her face whens she talks, and is prone to making little noises to emphasize her point. And her voice is like nothing I've heard. Entire choirs of cherubic angels couldn't compare.

I practically float through the rest of the day. My work gets done but I don't remember doing it. I have conversations I barely recall. The whole time, I'm replaying our tiny conversation, reading into her feather light touches - my elbow here, a forearm there. My brain tries to find any little nuances in her words that could be interpreted as flirting or some kind of interest.

If it was a mere crush the day before, after almost an entire day of analyzing and over-thinking, my crush is bordering on an obsession. The next morning I'm practically vibrating with the possibility of talking to her again.

Someone somewhere likes me, because that morning she smiles at me as she takes her seat at her desk. And this time I don't make too much of an ass of myself, instead having the balls to just smile back.

Then, when it's time for morning break, she repays the favor and buys me a coffee and a blueberry muffin, which we split as we make our way back to her desk.

I am so goddamn smitten. It's such a girly word, but I am.

"Look at your face, man!" hisses Jasper, his head visible over the top of my partition.

I ignore him, instead focusing on pictures of bird tattoos on my screen. "What? How can I look at my own face?"

"I'll give you a hint, it looks like this..." I look up to see Jasper striking a ridiculous pose, his hands tucked under his chin as he flutters his eyelashes.

"Oh, Bella," he swoons, doing a terrible impersonation of me.

"Shut up!" I laugh as he dodges my rubber band ball and slinks back into his chair.

My week continues in that fashion. A morning smile and sometimes a wave. Coffee and muffins followed by an entire seven minutes of Edward and Bella time. And all the while, I catch little glimpses of whatever it is that adorns her back. Flashes of ink here and there that I'm dying to ask about but don't.

It's Friday, Christmas Eve, and ripples of excitement vibrate through the office as talk of the department Christmas party arises. I know for a fact that Bella is going because I asked her.

Yeah, we're tight like that.

Not really. I almost trip on my own feet when she suggests that I save a dance for her.

Save a dance? Me?

Okay, one: I don't dance. Ever. Full stop. And two: do people still dance at parties? If so, why would she think my dance card would be so full that I would need to save her a spot? And what kind of dancing do people do these days? Are there choreographed moves? Am I going to be expected to "shuffle"? Because that just looks like a revamped version of the running man with some occasional flailing of your arms. Which means having more coordination than I posses.

I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about the dance situation. So much so that when I look up I find it's five-thirty and everyone is leaving to get dressed for the party.

With a little help from the coolest guy I know - my dad - I scrub up alright in a new shirt and jeans. I even get a haircut and wear a tie.

It's always strange being at your office after hours, the only noise the humming of the servers and the distance wail of ambulance sirens. It feels so forbidden and utterly wrong.

I take the elevator all the way up to the roof where the party has been set up. White twinkle lights cover almost everything; draped across awnings and around marquee posts. Two huge green fir trees, dusted with fake snow and glistening tinsel, flash and glitter against the night sky. It looks like a white Christmas under a balmy December sky.

Jasper has already had too much of the spiced eggnog when I arrive. He's wearing a a Santa hat and a bright red Christmas themed t-shirt with snow men on it. Apparently it was a gift from Alice. Who knew the girl had such bad taste? I don't even think hipsters would wear it, it's so hideous.

I nod and greet a few co-workers, and someone hands me a beer. I'm polite, meeting wives and boyfriends, trying not to notice Ben and Jessica sneaking off to grope each other behind Santa's workshop. I'm trying to listen to the conversation around me when Bella appears. James from accounts steps aside and there she is, smiling and practically glowing under the starry sky. She is a vision in white, the delicate frame of her body accentuated by the full skirt and fitted top.

_Look at me._

_Look __**at me**__._

Hearing my silent pleas, she turns her head slightly and her eyes meet mine. She waves, just the tips of her fingers dancing in the air. I desperately want to go over and talk to her, but propriety makes me stay, pretending to be interested in the conversation around me. She turns back to her conversation, turning first her head, then her body away from me.

And then I see them.

Her dress skims mid-back, revealing two dark wings - angel wings to be exact - spreading over her shoulder blades. Intricate detail winds its way into each singular feather as they make their way down her back, their tips hidden beneath the material of her dress. With every move of the muscles in her back, the wings move also, flexing and shifting, as if they're about to spread, flutter, ready themselves for flight.

She is my very own Christmas angel.

We spend the night orbiting each other, making polite conversation with others, stealing occasional glances at one another. I can see it in the way she moves; she's trying to make her way to me as fast as I am to her.

Finally, as the band starts up, we find ourselves in the same group of people, pretending to look interested together.

Her hair looks especially lovely tonight. Maybe it's the twinkle lights, maybe it's the spiced eggnog, but it seems brighter, almost fiery, making her skin look even more delicate.

_She's looking at me._

_What's she doing with her eyes?_

Her eyes dart to me, and then quickly to the side. Once. Twice, and then with furrowed brows, a third time.

Sighing, she grabs my hand and pulls me away from our work mates. Her hand is cold from the drink she's been holding, her fingers delicate and slender as they wrap around mine.

Under an awning covered in green vines and lights, she stops and turns to me.

I was right about her height, her head barely meets my chin. If I pulled her forward she would fit nicely into my arms, her head on my chest. But I don't, because that would be weird. Instead, my thumb smooths over the back of her hand gently, back and forth, her skin warming to my touch.

"I've decided that you should ask me on a date," she says firmly. It's obvious she's been thinking about it for a while.

"Me?"

She holds my hand up, turning it over in her own, fingers tracing the lines on my palm.

"Oh, Edward. How can someone so good looking and smart be so utterly clueless?"

Not even a small part of me is offended. "Just luck, I guess."

Still holding my hand in hers, she looks up at me expectantly. "Well?"

_Think, Edward. Think!_

"Do you want to maybe go out? For a drink for something? Something that's not a coffee?"

Bella narrows her eyes as she steps closer, our hands now intertwined between us.

"I don't know," she muses. "Drinks often lead to sex. And we all know about the dangers of unplanned pregnancy."

She pulls her brows together, but under her mock seriousness I can see her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Of course," I say, nodding in earnest. "But see, I'll solve the problem by asking you to marry me."

Her eyebrows raise in surprise. "A shotgun wedding?"

I nod, grinning widely. "Only the best."

She shakes her head, sighing solemnly. "But then my days will be spent at home looking after our child, longing for the good old days. While you traipse around the countryside selling dictionaries."

"The dictionary business is a lucrative one."

"Quite."

She smiles up at me. "We'll have huge fights."

"But great make-up sex."

"And then, before you know it, I've got you trapped in a loveless relationship."

I shake my head as I brush her hair over her shoulder, my fingers brave as the skim her shoulder. "Never."

Her eyes are closed when I look at her again, her mouth parted slightly as she takes a deep, shuddering breath.

"We're under mistletoe you know," she whispers.

I look up, right above us, and she's right. Twisting around us, winding over the awning and down the walls is mistletoe.

"I thought it was holly," I muse.

Her eyes open, focused solely on my lips. "Nope, it's most definitely mistletoe."

"I thought mistletoe had little red berries?"

"No, no. It's mistletoe."

"Huh."

"Edward?"

I look down at her and she smiles. "Shut up."

My stomach tightens as she shifts on to her tiptoes and kisses me once. Short and sweet, right on the lips.

But my subconscious won't have it. Before I know what I'm doing, I follow her lips with mine, chasing her kiss with one of my own. For a heartbeat her forehead rests against mine; it's the moment between the striking and the fire as our lips dance closer, closer...

"Kiss me," she whispers, quiet and desperate.

She's holding onto me for dear life, and I to her. Her head fits perfectly into my hand, the nape of her neck soft and pliant as I angle her head toward mine. Gentle kisses, slow and tender, she tastes of nutmeg and cinnamon, gingerbread and caramel corn. She breathes me in between kisses, her hands and body moving closer, clicking into place like a puzzle piece.

I've never been kissed like this before. Never. The world is silent except for the sound of our lips, and her breath. I can feel our heartbeats, like two caged hummingbirds, thrumming in our chests. It feels like nothing I've ever experienced before, and I know almost immediately that I'll never get enough. I want to bottle it up and breathe it back like a drug.

"Ooooh, lovers!"

Holding Bella close, tucking her to my side, I look to my right to see Jasper, bleary eyed and swaying as he grins at us.

I can feel Bella giggling, her shoulders shaking, her breath on my neck.

"Hi, Jasper," she says quietly, her head resting lightly on my chest.

Closing one eye, Jasper gives us the finger guns and a terrible drunk smirk.

"Okay, Jazzy," says Alice as she sidles up next to him, grabbing him by the shirt. "Home time." She winks at Bella and I before dragging Jasper away.

"Bye, Jazzy!" I call after him, watching him stumble after Alice like a drunk puppy.

My hand travels down Bella's back, resting in the dip of her spine, holding her to me. I don't even know how long we've been standing there for, but when I look around it's obvious that the party is over. The only people left are a few stragglers and the token drunk guy slow dancing on his own on the dance floor.

Emboldened by our kisses, my fingers dance over the ink that winds up her spine.

"You want to get out of here?"

She nods, humming in approval.

"I hear the supply room is nice this time of year."

* * *

><p><em>Not only did I get to reference The Black Keys, there's also some Emiliana Torrini in there :)<em>


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